


Fangirl Lottery

by dublin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Control, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forced Heterosexuality, Fucking Fans, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dublin/pseuds/dublin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis picks them for him, and if Harry's good, he'll get Louis' cock as a reward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fangirl Lottery

"Her."

Louis didn't even look at him, only said it from the corner of his mouth while shifting the photo to Niall and grabbing for the next one.

"Which one?"

"Red top, stripes, hat, glasses-- Thanks for coming. Thanks." Louis smiled at the girl in front of him, the point oh five seconds of eye contact before she was shuffled along.

Harry kept waiting for more, as if there was a reason to expect a change from the normal, postcard-sized photos of himself stacking up next to his hand until one of the handlers grabbed his shoulder. Louis only grinned, eyebrow raised, and then nodded at the stack and waited until Harry started signing again.

This was it, this was their usual, and Harry hardened in his chinos, mind spinning ahead to the maybes and what-ifs, playing out the crasser and cruder scenarios in technicolor as he gagged on it and Louis stood watching. He leaned back, daring Louis to turn back around but the little punk just kept signing. 

Louis did it on stage sometimes, would turn around and whisper-shout, "Third row, towards the left, begging to have you eat her out," and as he'd turn away he'd wink at Harry, and Harry would spend the next few songs half-hard, waiting for a nudge, a thumbs-up or any of the codes he'd need a fucking spreadsheet for before long that would dare him to find a way to approach her.

Most of the time the gig passed, with Harry on edge and waiting, and Louis would just grin after, sweaty and exhilirated and say, "Nope, not today, sorry," in fewer words and more self-satifisfied smiles. Harry would spend the few hours on his fucking knees in the corner just watching Louis stroke off to porn, hard and wanting to get his lips on that cock, while Louis watched him, saying dirty shit to keep him hard.

"Could've had her," Louis would say sometimes. "None for you tonight, Hazza."

Or, as was the case with this stretch of the tour, Harry would spend the next few hours on his knees in the corner of his own room, listening through thin walls as Louis did El, keeping himself hard but not allowed to come. Cock still slick from El's pussy, Louis would come over, just in boxers and a T-shirt and watch him kneeling there in the dark. He'd slide his fingers into Harry's hair, then kiss the top of his head. "Proud of you," he'd say and Harry would slip off to bed by himself once the door clicked into the lock, cock and balls cradled in his hand, sore with constant pressure of arousal until he drifted off to sleep.

"She's still watching you," Louis said now, signing his name over his grin on the card.

Harry caught her gaze across the sea of girls. Legal. They always went for the clearly legal ones, the ones who could be sisters or mums, were sisters or mums most of the time, the ones who hung back and still watched them, still came to the concerts and sang along with the best of them, who wanted it all the same. "Wet with it," Louis always said, "only the best for you." 

Louis had chosen Caroline, too. Back at the beginning, when they'd been fucking idiots to play so close to home, and she'd slap the shit-eating grins off their faces if she knew.

"No, it's our pleasure," Harry said to the girl in front of him, gaze skirting back across the queue where the woman stood, hair waving into her face, tight shirt, shorts, nice breasts if you went for things like that, and Louis did.

Louis looked across, texting El under the table, smug smile on his smug little face as Harry shifted forward and thrust his hand into his pocket to hide the line of his cock from the very much not legal fans around them. "You'll do her," Louis mouthed, as if phones and cameras wouldn't pick up on it in slowmo and broadcast it all across the internet, in endless sets of photos and moving frames. His gaze flicked across to the paps and the official press, before he grinned at Harry again with that fond, dopey look that lasted a little too long and was only half accidental. 

Harry shook his head but it was the last thing, between everything Harry did without blinking: the piss and licking come off stained hotel room carpets, licking it from toilet bowls, having Louis toy him in front of rolling cameras and only turn him on more, spending the night awake with his mouth on Louis' cock... between all these things, this was the last thing that he'd plead over, sometimes, and then Louis pushed a bit more, made him a bit harder, shoved his hand down the back of Harry's trousers when they stood in the second row and stared at a wall of cameras for a good minute for everyone to get their shot.

Louis would press his lips to Harry's jaw, in view of everyone and whisper for him to do it. And Harry would, heart racing with the excitement of the show of it. Thousands of girls screaming as they picked them out from the back of the crowd for a spot of charitable giving.

It had started like this, once, now years ago. Harry on his knees with Louis' cock in his mouth, taking him deep and Louis had blathered on. 

No, it had started like, 

_Louis: There's nothing you wouldn't do._

_No reply from Harry through the boxers stuffed into his mouth, the masking tape pulling the hair from his scalp. It sounded like I love you from where he was kneeling._

It had started because Louis had pushed and Harry had given on it all. Then late at night, the live show the next day, Louis had kept Harry's face in his lap while straight porn was on the laptop balanced on Harry's back. Escalating games pushed them from the first handjob to the first blowjob to anal and toys and then the thrill of being able to play it all in front of the cameras as their life was kaleidoscoping in HD on TV screens every single week.

"You'd hate it, wouldn't you?" Louis had said. "Tasting a girl. Would you do it though? For me? They'd love you for it." Louis had laughed, not the over the top crazy one from the diaries but the other one, the private one, as Harry had gagged on the imaginary taste.

Later, blanket covering them both, Harry had nodded, said, "Yeah, I would," with his throat hoarse but arousal deep in the pit of his stomach.

Caroline had been the first, picked by Louis. The first of ... many.

As Louis grabbed the photo card from Harry his thumb splayed in the thumbs-up across it, a split second that made the breath catch in Harry's throat, before Louis turned his shit-eating grin to the girl in front of him, paying complete attention to her to the exclusion of everyone else, including Harry, for the first time during that signing.

"Hey," Harry said, mouth dry when the woman stood in front of him. Louis pressed his knee to Harry's, warm, then skirted his left hand under the table while still signing with his right and smiling at the girl in front of him. Harry felt Louis' fingers close around his crotch, knuckles digging into his balls and making him clench his thighs around Louis' hand, Louis' palm pressed to the hard length of Harry's cock. 

Harry scribbled his number on a scrap piece of paper and slid it across the card under the palm of his hand as he signed a shaky signature onto his face. The woman, girl really, a few years older than Louis maybe, a bit plain, caught it, looked at him, then at Louis and his fucking, "Thanks for coming," at her as she shuffled past to the end of the table where she looked back at Harry and down at his number.

Louis leaned across, pressing his lips to Harry's ear, brushing back the hair dragged into Harry's hair from the wind. "You'll eat her out good, spend an hour between her legs and keep yourself hard while you do it. Buried with your face in her pussy, all slick with her juices. Just think of me watching you, being so fucking good for me. She'll love it. She'll love you between her legs." The cameras went off with clicks and flashes, their moment of mutual masturbation splashing onto SD cards and harddrives.

Louis leaned back in his chair, hand slipping from Harry's crotch to the top of the table again as he continued signing. 

"I'll be thinking of you, head between her thighs," Louis said as they stood waving for a last photo. 

Harry couldn't see her anymore in the throng of people, spots of white left in an afterimage every time he blinked. 

They were back in the mini bus when the text came, vibrating between his and Louis' thigh on his phone while Louis nuzzled at El's neck. He was watching though from the corner of his eye.

_Hi. Look, I don't know if this is even real or just you having a laugh. But in case you're not, hello._

El watched them both. A memorable night in a hotel corridor in Bristol where she'd cornered him when Louis had been wherever, pissing over the balcony for a laugh, maybe, careening luggage carts down the drive.

"I'm not stupid, you know," she'd said.

Harry had been left nodding, quietly, because what did you offer up to the girl the bloke you were shagging was with? No matter how nominally and/or fully consumated. Other than those kinds of quiet nods that you hoped she'd take to mean everything while they were nothing more than nervous gestures.

"He pushes it too far sometimes," she said, small smile on her face, then, "I don't want to hear about it." And she had been so firmly offlimits since that Harry didn't know what to do with his hands whenever she was there, and they'd not talked about it since, not her and him, nor Louis and him and he wasn't privy to the things he couldn't hear through the walls in the adjoining room when they were on their own.

She was watching Louis now though as Louis was watching him type a response. Some details, some assurances, small talk that made his palms wet with nerves and his cock hard as he tugged the girl along with a few x's and smilies and casual interest, but interest all the same, if for Louis' sake and not hers. Once El was back in England they'd be back to spending the nights, back to, "Five minutes outside," naked, while other hotel guests could walk down the corridor anytime, and Louis would blow him after. Back to handjobs that made Niall throw shit at their heads, back to Louis daring him in the middle of an interview. Back to sleeping together, too. While El was here though, they had this, Harry going down on a girl because Louis thought it was the best joke in the world.

"They deserve a bit of attention, don't you think? Being the best fans in the world," Louis always said. 

Harry had never considered pussy before Caroline, before the nights spent with Louis' cock up his arse, face in a sexshop pussy, tongue and jaw sore, as Louis whispered to him how good he was being. During the day it all faded into the background until Louis looked at him and had him with a gesture or a glance or a word, a nudge turning into a shove turning into a push, a private joke turning into a public one as apple juice could very well have been piss and was later. 

"You're doing so fucking good," Louis whispered between those moments, pulled him in close with a hand on Harry's cock, wanking him until he came, sucking him and sharing the rest of it. Inbetween those moments were anticipation and too many erections to count, and some other squishy feeling whenever their hands brushed in mere accidents on stage that Harry didn't look at much as long as he got off. They drifted between the wait and the hurry-up of popstardom, living most their life in public these days, their tears and their laughs and their sex, the bad hair days and the ones were they were on top of the world. Harry was just waiting for the bubble to burst and Louis kept insisting it'd keep afloat for a little while longer yet.

"Just you looking like you pissed all over yourself," Niall shouted from the front of the bus when Harry asked what it was that had him in stitches. 

Louis grinned as Zayn rolled his eyes. El chuckled. 

"Yeah you did," Louis said. 

"You'll treat her good, don't want to hear any complaints," he whispered against the side of Harry's face when they marched through the throng of fans back to the hotel, back to their rooms, his fingers straying dangerously close to Harry's crotch. He stayed on the other side of Harry on the elevator, not giving him a last glance or touch or smile, deep in conversation and looking deep in love with El, leaving Harry hard and wanting and turned on and ignored when Harry disappeared into his own room, begging out of PS and burger party for a secret non-wank pillow-hump.

With a few hours to soundcheck Louis' texts and the girl's texts alternated in Harry's messages. He had a hand down his boxers, stretched out on his bed, then the concert with Louis unable to keep his hands and whispers off him.

"You'll do her good."

"Get your face all messy in her pussy."

"I want it slicking the tips of your hair until you're drenched with it." 

They were practically making out over it on stage while a crowd of twelve years olds shouted along badly to their songs. Then Harry pushed back, half naked and half hard and Louis still had the same smug smile on his face when he pointed out she was there, then glanced down Harry's body and had his own cock to tuck away into the folds of his trousers after when Harry whispered, "My mouth will work her over good," just before one of Louis' solos. All the while a good few thousand cameras captured their every move and Harry jived off it, spiralling higher, as he glanced at Louis, waggling his brows and giving him the come on with his fingers. The other lads let them be for the most part, getting carried away in their own little bubble of pseudo fame.

The last number, the run off stage and the group huddle, drenched with sweat and soaked with adrenaline, buzzing on the high. Louis grabbed the back of Harry's head, fingers twisting into his hair as he turned Harry's head towards the girl standing at the side, watching them wide-eyed. Breathing hard and swimming in the thrill, they let the rest of the boys carry on down the corridor while Harry ambled over to the girl. He knew Louis was watching, Louis was always watching.

"Did you enjoy it?" He was hyper conscious of her breasts somewhere underneath his chest and her pussy even lower, of the shanting still going on on the other side of the stage as the crowd filtered out, the noise of the crew around them, the scrape of Louis' nails against the metal railing. He could see him from the corner of his eyes, watching, daring him to take it further.

"Yeah."

"Good." Harry brushed his nose and lips up the girl's neck. "Got to leave early, but we've got the night. What do you say?" He fingered at the bottom of her shirt, knuckles brushing just above the line of her jeans.

Her gaze flickered over his shoulder. "Louis is watching."

"Yeah." Harry grinned as he turned around, Louis' smug face right in his line of vision, and Louis didn't move. "He does that." He got his fingers just under her shirt and practically heard Louis mouth from across the room what he wanted him to do with the girl. "I've got to go now, but this is the room." He leaned in and kissed her as he pressed the small scrap of paper into her hand. She tasted of Coke and bubblegum, something sticky and sweet, but opened easily for him. She'd open her legs even better later.

The drive back to the hotel was loud, hands and feet flailing in the car, music throbbing as they rolled with the high of it. Louis had his fingers around the back of Harry's neck, tips slipping into his hair, to tug him in closer. 

Louis waited at his door once the noise and laughter of everyone finding their beds subsided, El asleep already maybe, just as Harry did at his own, resisting the urge to palm himelf through his trousers even as Louis made more than obscene gestures with his hand, laughing audibly all the way from down the corridor.

The girl appeared from the lifts, and Harry waved, Louis' chuckles cutting through the air behind him.

"I never asked, what's your name, lovely?" Harry said when she was close enough to pull in, her breasts squishing against his chest, her pussy hot, he had no doubt, if he could wiggle his leg between hers and get there.

She gave him a name that he sucked off her mouth, and he watched Louis as he kissed her. Louis leaned against the frame, a hand down his trousers as Harry kissed warm lips and fondled warmer breasts because Louis got off on it, and Harry got off on _that_.

She let him do it all, let him slip his hand into her trousers, fingers finding her wet for him, too fucking turned on by screwing a popstar. "Nice, hm?" he muttered into her ear, pitching his voice low as he slipped her panties aside to drag his fingertips over her clit and lips and further between her legs. She jerked against him, and down the corridor Louis' smacked his head against the frame of the door as he thrust his cock into his fist.

The girl jerked around and stared at Louis, then back around at Harry. 

"What-"

"Don't mind him, love," Harry said and reached for her hip again, wanting her closer, better to press his cock up against her and drag her in further with it.

"Fuck you." She pulled away. "What fucked-up game are you playing?"

Harry glanced along the corridor to Louis, thinking fast before she slipped away. "You could ... you know ... he'd be up for it, too. Two for... you know. We'd make it-"

"Fuck you."

"No... really..."

She turned on her heel and was gone, down the corridor and down the stairs, top button of her jeans still undone and the fabric dragged halfway down her body. Harry cupped himself through his trousers, still hard up for it but when he glanced at Louis, Louis was just shaking his head.

"Screwed that one up, babe." He walked closer, outline of his cock right there and Harry wanted it. "Doing so well, too. Could've had her with a bit more convincing. Could've had me after." He burned hot as he leaned into Harry and nipped at his lips, his cheeks, his neck, leaving his mark on him. 

All they were missing were the surveillance tapes leaked, cocks even more exposed than before, and a bit of a stage. This was private, almost too intimate, tucked into the doorframe with no way to shuffle and move and Louis just looking at him.

"Can't have been that hard for it," Louis whispered against the side of Harry's neck, wet with Louis' spit now. "Didn't want it that much, did you? Thought I'd taught you better?" Louis was chuckling but his hand on Harry's cock dragged him down far enough, made him want to be better for Louis next time.

Louis pulled away, left him with his trousers open and his cock out against the door to his room and stood on the other side of the corridor. Nevermind the flashes from tens of thousands of fans during a concert, the headlines in the tabloids and the fucking candids the paps shot whenever they weren't looking, none of it had him as pinned as this. Louis grinning like the little shit he was as he ambled off down the corridor, with Harry willing to crash to his knees to get a "well done" and a smile of approval.

None tonight though. Tonight only had the soft thud of the door closing as Louis went back to his room, presumably crawling into bed with El. 

Harry stared down at his cock, tried to imagine his face between the girl's thighs and how much she'd have loved it, how special he'd have made her feel, and how special he would have felt after. Then he slid his card through the reader and stumbled into his room, dragged his clothes off and landed face-first on the bed. 

He humped the mattress, fingers he'd had up the girl's pussy in his mouth even if the taste made him recoil, until the phone rang for the wake-up call. Another day to live the life and score some, there was always another day to score.


End file.
